


Under the Surface

by Silver Lioness (Rumpels_Darker_Dearie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aged Up Hermione, F/M, Multi, Rape, The Perils of using A Time Turner, dub con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22914631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumpels_Darker_Dearie/pseuds/Silver%20Lioness
Summary: Using the Time-Turner for as much as she has done has given Hermione an extra two years of life. This makes her of age in mind and body. Hermione fears the consequences of this when Lucius Malfoy uses this to his advantage. She is 15 in September in the book GOF, so for the purposes of the story, she's seventeen.What does this mean for the Tri-Wizard tournament?This could also be called The Ethics of Lucius Malfoy I suppose as he does display some...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	1. Going Under

**Author's Note:**

> [ ](https://imgur.com/tTNk5ju)

Now I will tell you what I've done for you - **   
** 50 thousand tears I've cried. **   
** Screaming, deceiving and bleeding for you - **   
** And you still won't hear me - (Evanescence: Going Under)

****

** Going Under **

Stretch up. Bend down. Twist. Bend hamstring right. Hamstring left. Now hold up your sorry excuse for hair and put your bag by your feet. Enjoy and test the water. Such a beautiful lake. Hermione sighed, as she saw a pair of swans glide in the rippling silver surface. Such a scene of perfect union. Though swans were vicious creatures. Beauty and grace on the water but frantically paddling underneath. The one thing she did like about swans were that they mated for life. The sun was up and she decided to lift her face to it.

“What are you doing?” a voice behind her said.

Not showing signs of cringing Hermione opened her eyes and glared at the face of number two prat: Draco Malfoy. “Enjoying some peace and quiet before the match, as if I should explain myself to you.”

“So, the Weasley’s give you a headache do they?” Draco scoffed. It seemed as if his sneer was half-hearted. “Not surprised.”

“No,” she said without a hint of sarcasm. Be polite, Hermione, her father always said. Remember, FIRE is doused by water. Be as calm as Lake Windermere. “Having five different conversations go on in one tent is a bit much,” she even smiled. Like they were friends, “especially as I am only used to having one scientifically based debate between three people.”

“Oh yeah, your parents!” Draco sighed, thrusting his hands in his pockets. “What do they do for you to be able to buy things?” here he shifted around and was contemplating sitting next to her but he did not wish to get his trousers dirty.

“Dentists.”

“What are they?”

“Teeth healers,” was her short response. “Children hate them. Muggles have a fear of them,” she added. Not in the mood to discuss anything to do with her parent's line of work. In truth, she wished that they were Librarians or Lawyers. “Sort of like as Dark Arts as muggles get within respectability.” She came here to be alone with her thoughts. Why was Draco making kind conversation? “What are you doing here?”

“I was walking to get a drink from the Marquee,” Oh gods, Granger, you’re hot. No Potty Measle around to jump down my throat. I have no one around, what is to stop me from joining her? Or, even better, finally find a better use for that mouth and her hands go up and... Stop there, Draco. “That only the privileged get to go to,” he said without a hint of malice. Be shocking once in your life, Draco. Ask her out! He opened his mouth to try and see if she wanted to come.

Hermione furrowed her brow silently opening her mouth to retort something nasty about where she could stick his privileges. A crystal clear, hard as diamonds, a voice cut into their first somewhat normal tête-à-tête. “What have I said, Draco?” it said. Immediately, she felt the change. The air crackled between father and son. Wow, she thought, Draco flinched...

Enter stage right, prat number one: King of Krill. Earl of Eels. Lord of Leeches. Sir of Snakes: Lucius Malfoy. “Play nicely, Father,” Draco sighed. Pity rose in Hermione's heart. He was playing nicely. There was no sneer. Leer. Jest. If Draco wanted to stay, she'd have let him. “But...”

“He was being civilised,” Hermione interrupted. Deciding, in that minute, to defend Draco. Was she mistaken or did Draco flash a warning shot in his eyes as if to stop her from perturbing his father?

Rolling her eyes, Hermione looked ahead trying to observe the tranquil lake before her, in an effort to ignore the boy and the man behind her. “I do hope my son was not pestering you, Miss Granger,” he smirked at her narrowed eyes. There was something wonderful about the untried Gryffindor, he sighed. A real Wizard was in order for her. “Or boring you?”

“It was just a question,” Hermione said. Secretly, she _had_ wanted a proper talk with Draco for awhile. Try to find out his real heart. Certainly not to date him but she could not help but think Draco was more than he appeared. More than his Father would _allow_ him to be. “I answered. It’s called small talk.”

Maybe wearing the mid-length green and silver tartan skirt was a bad idea! Though her mother treated her to a proper leg wax a few days ago. It was deliciously hot and she wanted the sun's rays to lick her skin. She could wear what she damn well wanted. Why did Lucius make her feel she should be wearing a suit of armour. What had possessed her to try this skirt on in the shop? Even more so to persuade her mother to purchase it. It was not the length or pattern. It was the colour. Green and Silver. “I was seeking tranquillity.”

She must have been unconsciously stroking her leg causing both Malfoy’s to finally notice her skirt because what Lucius said next shocked her: “Green and Silver, Miss Granger?” she could feel the arched eyebrow burn into her cheek.

Lowering her head, Hermione tried to hide her blush. Pulling the skirt at the hem, as far down as she could, to hide her thighs. “If I could have charmed it red and gold I can assure you,” here she looked the elder Malfoy right in the eye, “I would have.”

“That blouse is rather tight too,” supremely tight, Lucius licked his lips. Salaciously, see-through, showing how wonderful her breasts were. Not even in a proper bra.“Is it not?”

Suck it, Malfoy. Hermione seethed: “It fits!” she snapped.

“Yes,” Mr Malfoy conceded. “It fits,” with a sigh he allowed his hooded eyes to observe how her frame breathed within. “I would venture to guess it was designed with you specifically in mind.”

What the hell? Was Lucius Malfoy feeling her up with his eyes? Huffing as she stood up Hermione lifted her bag: “I guess I ought to find another spot for solitude then,” she turned around and saw Lucius blue eyes twinkling. “Where there are no prying eyes.”

“We were just leaving,” Lucius said not taking his eyes away from her hips. Why did she feel the need for Gryffindor’s sword? “Come, Draco, allow Miss Granger her peace.”

“I want…” Draco objected.

Exasperation showed in Lucius' eyes: “It is always about what you want, is it not, Draco?”

If she felt braver she would have grabbed hold of Draco’s hand urging him to stay. It was not fair, Draco sighed. For the first time he was bordering on civil to her and he would have sat and talked about the upcoming year if his father had not shown up. Sulking, Draco walked up to his father.

Placing a jewelled hand on his son’s shoulder Lucius tilted his head further up to her waist. Out of her school uniform, she’s delectable indeed. So young. Freshly ripened.“Enjoy the beautiful view, Miss Granger,” Lucius winked as he turned Draco around. “As I most certainly have.”

With that, they left the glen together. Lucius stopped suddenly when they had turned the corner. Squeezing Draco’s shoulder Lucius smile did reach his gaze. Now was his opportunity. “You go to the Marquee,” he said. “I need to see to something,” Lucius gaze rested on the corner they had just walked around. Draco saw his Father lick his lips. “It is highly sensitive.”

Highly Sensitive? Draco was sceptical at the best of times. See something? Draco ground his teeth together. “Is it _that_ important?”

Winking, Lucius patted his son on the shoulder: “Something that needs to be done, that is all.”

As much as he adored his father, Draco knew when he was a man on the prowl. The look in his eyes told all. The tone conveyed everything. Draco felt sorry for whomever his father had chosen as his prey and he had a bloody good idea who it was. The girl had best have strong defences. Did anybody against his dad? “Can I help?” he asked. Hoping he could step in. Prove he could be a hero after all.

“This is a task for a man,” his father winked again and smirked. “Just go and have fun, Draco. I suggest Miss Weasley,” shocked, Draco glanced into his father’s eyes: “She still is purity, Draco,” he chuckled. “Go!”

And risk Potter breathing down my neck every time he has an opportunity? No one needed a seer or prophecy to tell the world Ginny Weasley was going to be Ginny Potter one day. The only other playmate would have been Hermione - and it seemed his Father decided on a game with two players.

With that Lucius turned on his heel and walked back. Leaving Draco in a quandary. Should he follow his father? Something to be done, Draco leered. More likely he was doing someone. Someone who looked incredibly good dressed up as a Slytherin. Should I try and get a message to Potter? Then again if Harry _did_ show up to defend his friend’s honour, that would be something Draco _would_ hear about from his father! No choice but to leave Granger to be seduced. She would be. If Draco got what he wanted it was because he learned from the best. Damn him, Draco gritted his teeth, I wanted to try that.

♦♥♦

“Now the Nazi prats have gone,” Hermione sighed. It had taken all her willpower to gather the courage to do this. Leaning on a tree root Hermione stood up. Barefoot for a while now, Hermione decided to brave it, no time like the present. Reaching around her waist she fiddled with the emerald green button, popped it open where the flap revealed a tease of the hip. Another, larger black button is hidden in the band, secured the skirt tightly around her hip. Not any more. Deftly, she hooked her fingers over the band of the skirt and released that button. Allowing the garment to fall in a heap at her feet. The blouse next. Yes, it was a bit form-fitting; but she did not have a form to fit it too. Shrugging her shoulders as she thought of Lucius Malfoy’s twinkle. What he said: Designed for you, he was flirting with her. In front of his son. Could someone be that arrogant?

No, Hermione shook her head, that way lies madness. The fake pearl buttons were harder to undo but she did not fancy a scrabble in the mud to find them if she just… “Who’s there?” she asked as she thought she heard a twig crunch beneath someone’s foot. “Hello?” Must have imagined it, hanging around with Harry Potter does that to you. “Fine,” she said. “ _Now, now, Draco, play nicely_!” she mimicked Lucius. “Good grief, he was not being horrible, for a change, if things were different I probably would have fancied him like mad, I almost did, once.”

Methodically, she looped each button out of her crisp white blouse carefully. Shrugging it off hurriedly as she could not wait for what she planned to do. Closing her eyes, she stood at the edge of the lake, dipping her toes in the soothing cool water. Displaying nothing more than a strappy lilac bikini, Hermione felt strangely emancipated. The scent of wet earth, in the strong summer heat, made her shiver in pleasure. Putting her feet together, bending her knees, stretching arms up for one last warm-up - Hermione found a tree root sturdy enough to support her for what she wished to do.

Bend back. Hold arms up straight, (hah, that was at least one thing she could do). Curve body. Legs straight. Tiptoes. Launch. In one graceful movement - well, she hoped it was graceful: she found immediate pleasure as her head hit the water. Breast stroking underwater was so relaxing. Eventually, Hermione swam up to the surface, right where the sun’s ray fell on her sinewy form. There, she wallowed a little in the water, allowing the gentle lapping to bewitch her mind and take over her skin.

Recapturing her breath, Hermione decided to bob back under the surface to swim back to the shore. Surprisingly, she spotted an alcove to rest in. Not caring if she got mucky. This was probably the most un-Hermione she had felt in her entire life. For one moment she could forget about everything. Magic, muggles, Harry. Just close her eyes and remember that she is a human being.

Godric’s teeth, she sighed, resting her head back. The water is so hot and comforting. Normally that would have sent her brain in a frenzy asking questions. If one thing her friendship with Ron and Harry taught her, you have to relax when the opportunity presented itself, and she was prepared to do just that!

“Hakuna Matata,” she breathed. “What a wonderful phrase,” settling heavily into the calming, silently, lapping waters, “Hakuna Matata, it means no worries,” shifting position and moaning as she was imagining some Italian stud screwing her senseless. Lucius waited to hear whom his rival was: “for the rest of your days, it's a problem... oh yes,” Hermione rolled her head. No, she was not pleasuring herself, as her arms were curved around the ledge of the alcove. Rather, the little woman was allowing her sensuality bring her to that orgasmic high! “free, Philo-sssso-phy,” she hissed the s in the word so huskily Lucius felt a decided twitch in his boxers as he imagined that same hiss being ripped from her mouth as he rent her asunder in passions embrace. “Hakuna Matata,” she ducked her head again under the water, “Hakuna Matata and,” she arched her back as if a hand was touching her core. “High _Cock_ alorum,” she giggled dirtily. That was it, Lucius was determined. No other Wizard was to have this Witch but him. If he so much as saw a Muggle touch her that Muggle would be fried beyond oblivion, “High COCKALORUM!” she yelled. How could the Witch achieve that without touching her body and without the use of Magic? Later, Lucius, you are a willing pupil too. With a sigh, Hermione relaxed again: “High Cockalorum, indeed!” Laying her head against the curve in the bank Lucius could see she was panting, glowing and happy. Could it be that the mudblood bookworm was hiding an extremely sensual, erotic side? “I just hope,” she sighed, “no one saw that. Least of all that Nazi son of a bitch!”

♦♥♦

On the shore, Lucius watched from a good vantage point as she shed her clothes. Appreciating how she filled out. More to come but she was so close to age he did not care. Besides, it would be her word against his, though he would make sure she had nothing to complain about. He saw how his son was looking at her. Did he think that someone as sinewy and beautiful as Hermione Granger would be interested in him? Besides, he smirked, there was such immense satisfaction that almost made him aroused at the thought; it will be delightful to have Harry Potter’s right-hand woman as his own Mudblood Mistress.

Impressed by her elegant descent into the water, as there was barely a ripple on the surface, Lucius waited until she bobbed up to see how she looked wet. Oh yes, he smiled. Now I have to protect this glade somehow so no one spies her. Dear Hermione, you will be mine to enjoy, taste and savour. Quietly, with a wave of the hand, Lucius cast a cloaking charm from a few feet behind him to a few feet all around the lake. Also, he made sure no one could hear either. He did not want Mr Potter to be around to save the day. Least of all her honour. Rubbing his face he then began to go about charming the lake itself by creating a little alcove for her to relax in.

With a few other charms as an extra precaution. “ _Aqua Aestus_ ,” he muttered waving his hand over the water. Testing the temperature. She would most certainly find pleasure here. Turning a tree root into a flat wooden seat for something comfortable to sit. Taking a silk green handkerchief out of his trouser pockets: “ _Crescat Engorgo_ ,” he murmured. The small material became a shimmering emerald silken blanket for him to kneel on and other, more pressing matters, later.

A white wing collar shirt was already undone to reveal his Adam’s apple and a tease of his prominent collarbone that led to broad shoulders no Witch had ever been able to resist. He smirked when he remembered Lily Evans wantonly wrapped around him. He had almost succeeded had not Snape caught them at it and jealously guarded her honour. This time he was prepared. Little good _that_ did him, Lucius sneered, as he swiftly removed his cuffs. Carefully placing them in his trouser pocket. The stupid bint still ended up with that idiot Potter! Methodically, Lucius rolled his sleeves up. Because he did not want to wait when the moment came, he took down his trousers, wondering how she would react to this. Shock, he surmised. Kicking them away he sat down removing his footwear. Dressed now only in his loose shirt and satin black boxers. Good, he checked his arm, the Mark was not throbbing yet.

Something else was. Straining against his black silk boxers. Unbuttoning the flap to ease the pain. This was going to be so easy. Many had him down as a big bad Death Eater. What they did not know, and was less well documented, was his way with the women! If this was going to be the last time to have a bit of fun it may as well be with Potter’s delicious-looking friend. Though, he sighed, I doubt that HE would appear tonight. Depending on how she fights and responds, he may even have her as his live-in Mistress. Salazar's forked tongue, it was big enough to have a whole army of them. If anything, Lucius was more precious over his Mistresses than he was for his wife. Lucius Malfoy was selfish in all aspects of life and proud of it.

As she approached he placed a disillusionment charm on himself so she would sit there willingly. Besides, it was always more fun. The moment she was utterly relaxed then he would silently, stealthily, reveal himself. Gods Witch! he sighed at her slight but perfect form. You are a world of trouble! Golden shoulders gleamed amongst the silver droplets of the lake. Neck slender. He could throttle it with one of his hands but that was not his goal for today. No, his goal was for a more _pleasant_ task. After her somewhat tantric self-induced orgasm Lucius listened to what else she wanted to say aloud.

“Wow,” Hermione breathed circling her neck, “this is like being at Centre Parcs oh yeah, Longleat here I come.” Centre Parcs? Longleat? That was Wiltshire. His home county. Lucius tilted his head listening for her moans of pleasure as the heat encompassed and soothed her. “I want to stay here forever but,” she sighed, “that Quidditch match - oh Hermione,” she chided herself. “Why did you have to say that? You don’t even like Quidditch, truth is you hate sport - whether it’s Wizards on a broomstick or Muggles kicking a ball on the ground.” Just a few short years in our world, Lucius tutted, you already use the word with such easy dislike. “I wish I was at the Burrow reading but I could not let Ron and Harry down.” At that point Lucius could thank to whatever deity that would listen, the Gryffindorian sense of loyalty of the golden trio from the treetops: “Stop thinking Hermione, just try and enjoy the moment.”

Yes, Hermione, Lucius smirked behind her. Enjoy. She lifted a hand out of the water and tucked a stray coil of hair behind her ear. “Ce sera, sera, whatever will be. Will be, the futures not ours to see,” she hummed. “Ce sera, sera.” With a sigh, Hermione dipped her head under the water and resurfaced: “Under the sea,” her tone changed, “Under the sea,” dancing sexily in the gap. “Down where it's wetter, down where it's better, take it from me,” laughing with pure joy. “Oh to think, Mermaids are real. Flying carpets are real. Wands are real. Spells and potions are real. I love being a Witch!” she sighed resting her head back. “Almost as much as I love this bliss right now.”

Surprisingly, Lucius was taken by her sweet humming soulful sound of the first song. As for the down where it's wetter if only you knew how I interpret that, Hermione. As for loving being a Witch... You most certainly will love being _my_ Witch. This was the point Lucius lifted the disillusionment charm. Held his hand out hovering his fingertips over the nape of her neck. Enraptured by the darker shades of caramels and honey glistening with the sun and water. Such a Nymph. Remain quiet, Lucius thought. Absolutely still. He crawled closer to the edge as his fingers caught the loose tendrils from her rough ponytail: “Who’s there?” she was startled as she felt the touch but too scared to turn around. “Who is it?”

Holding his hand steady, he could not risk her turning around yet. Carefully, he put his hand on her shoulders. No wonder she beats my son at exams, he sighed, the magic core sizzling through her body almost reverberated through his heart. Methodically, with a firm but gentle touch, Lucius started massaging. Kneading his firm fingers into her soft, supple, sun-drenched skin. Instead of opening her eyes wondering who was touching her, she just relaxed into the heavy touch: “Oh yes,” she hissed. “I love dreams when I can feel someone touching me.” Arching an eyebrow Lucius was about to whisper something to completely send her into a pool of bliss. Until he realised that, despite little contact, she still recognised his voice: Also, she had just sent herself in that zone, it would not do to let her go back to that... yet. Bide your time, dear boy, bide your time. “So good it feels real.”

Rolling her head and enjoying what she thought was a fake massage Hermione moaned out a name Lucius did not recognise: “Oh A-lan Rick-man,” she sighed, trying not to allow her body to go back to that episode earlier. Something had happened to her the past month or so. Her body seemed to react so well to the slightest of touches. It hurt sometimes. Instead of questioning where the heaviness came from, Hermione leaned, willingly into Lucius touch. “Am I 10:30 or 10:45, I doubt you would need my friends; they get in the way,” she giggled. A reference to a man who wanted sex by appointment? Was this some odd and boring muggle thing? No, it can’t be boring because the blush that flamed her cheeks and peppered tantalisingly around her neck and shoulders, indicated otherwise: “If the Sheriff of Nottingham really sounded like that then Marion was a right dunderhead,” she mimicked Snape so well that Lucius forgot the sneak attack and chuckled; the ripple from his mirth caused her to quiver momentarily as he applied the pressure harder into her youthful, wet, pliant skin.

Of course, that made her gasp. Slowly, her hands crawled up her breasts, up to her shoulders where she felt wet; slightly downy, definitely male flesh. Instead of panicking Hermione grabbed further up one arm. Vice like grip she clutched on. Decidedly male. Sinews throbbed at her touch, whoever this man was, he wanted her. Stop it, Hermione sighed, you are being assaulted! Be sensible. Not hormonal. Once her other hand closed on the arm she bobbed her head under the water and yanked, with all her might. Dragging him into the water with her.

Rising from the water, Hermione swam further away from. Until her curiosity got the better of her and once the sounds of shock and spluttering subsided. Hermione turned around to see who her would-be assailant was. “Mr Malfoy!” she exclaimed. Skittering further away from the mad looking, soaked through Slytherin. Rumoured Death Eater. Byron-esque in the mad, bad and dangerous to know quality. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Oh, I forgot, you do not have to explain yourself to the likes of me!” she sneered.

With that Hermione swam her way gracefully back to the shore where her clothes lay in a heap. What she did not expect was Lucius agility as his long, powerful arms, sliced through the still waters effortlessly. Due to size and strength, Lucius proved himself to be fast and aggravating. Not only was the lake lapping but she noted that his muscles rippled in the sun. Now the element was in his favour, as she had no choice but to swim either into him or stop in front of him. Sexy when wet! Hermione berated herself. No, no he is not. He’s just as disgusting to me as I am to him. Or I _should_ be to him.

“You thought I was someone,” he murmured once he had her attention. “Who was the object of your fantasy?”

“A Muggle.”

“One you know?”

“In the muggle world he’s more famous than Harry Potter - plus he’s in his late forties,” then lowered her eyelashes: “no, I do not know him.”

“So, you like experienced men,” the smirk tugged at his lips.

This was not right. He was supposed to be cursing her for besting him. Touching him a... hang on, _he_ was touching _her_. Gave her the best shoulder massage she ever had. “I do not know what sexuality he is, I just think he has a wonderful baritone and amazing eyes. Blond.”

Baritone, yes. Amazing eyes. Lucius liked to think so. One could not be blonder than I. “Why did you mention times?”

Lucius was proving an excellent swimmer. Cutting through the water gracefully. Unlike the swans, Lucius Malfoy was not flapping about under the surface. Neither was she: “T-times?”

“Am I your 10:30 or 10:45?” he quoted.

Hermione allowed the water to carry her. Unfortunately, Lucius was getting closer and closer: “It is something he says in one of his films.”

“Those things that…”

“Why does it matter to you who Alan Rickman is, anyway?” her voice had risen; hoping that someone could hear her. Hermione scowled when she could not see or hear anyone. What was going on? “Leave him alone.”

“So, this Sheriff he plays…” Lucius was now circling her as she followed his movements not wishing for him to be behind her, “with women, does he?”

“One, Maid Marion, who does not like him. He wore lots of black and promises to call off Christmas.”

“Sounds like Severus Snape to me,” the white shirt was transparent showing off his perfectly toned body. Hermione pinched her lower lip with her teeth. Go away! Elegantly, Hermione flipped around and tried to swim elsewhere but Lucius followed her. Married! Hermione tried to remind herself. He. Is. Mar-ried. As in bonded to another woman for life. Son shows said UNION was/is not entirely passionless.

Honestly, Hermione was mad at the world. Wizard - Muggle - whatever, men were men. Answer a question properly and logically you get told you’re a nightmare and insufferable. Flash a bit of leg and suddenly they become loyal little lapdogs. As she was about to climb out of the lake. Further up the shore from where her clothes lay. Hermione found the pull of the water takes over. Why should she leave because some blond bastard was in here? She was a proficient enough swimmer to stay away from him. Then she felt hot. Fingers ghosted up and down her spine eventually landing on the clasp of her bikini top. “Quite an interesting garment, Hermione,” he whispered blowing on her wet shoulder blades.

“MR Malfoy!” she hissed. “I do hope you recall that you are married.”

“Yes,” he murmured, “but why should I stop at one when beautiful Witches are growing up all around me?”

“I can scream you know!” she said.

Now she felt his hands on her hips as he pressed into her back. Nuzzling his nose into the nape of her neck he dotted hot, searing kisses into her skin. Then he turned her around where her hands accidentally landed on his shoulders. “I charmed the area so no one can either see or hear us,” he whispered against her lips, “and I _intend_ to make you scream.”

“Oh how thoughtful for yourself,” Hermione snapped. “I will never scream for you, Malfoy!” she spat.

“I won’t lie, yes, it was mainly for my gratification that I did so.” The water lapped gently around them acting like their own personal, natural symphony: “So, you like deep-voiced, older, sarcastic men,” Lucius sighed ghosting his fingers around her jaw. “I am so delighted that Severus is not here.” Tilting her chin up with the curve of his hand so he could gaze into her eyes: “Oh, I believe in less than an hour, you will be yelling for me to make you scream.”

“I’m your son’s age, does that not bother you?”

Gazing down at her young pert breasts rising and falling out of the water as her breath quickened at his light barely-there touch. “Would you prefer it if Draco were here instead of me?” Oh, the goody-two-shoes has a weakness for dark men, this was too sweet.

“I would _prefer_ to have been left alone.”

“Green and silver do suit you, Hermione,” he said her name like he had a right to it. “It has been some time but you have, indeed, become a creature of beauty.”

“ _Mr_ Malfoy,” she snapped, “might I remind you that if you continue on this course of action I can report you to Dumbledore. He still does not believe you did not slip Ginny, Riddle’s diary.”

“Ah, well,” he purred moving in closer. Hermione realised the only escape would be to swim through his legs. That, he was not going to allow her to do as he would, more likely, trap her between them. There was now not enough room for her to turn around or even to crawl back up the mud as he had pinned her against the bank. “I have a feeling you would not wish your friends to be told as they most assuredly would be informed if you did.”

“You are nothing more than a perverted, deviant, spineless, self-satisfied prig.”

Chuckling deeply within his throat Lucius was not riled by her guileless attempt of insulting him: “To a man like me,” he sighed tilting his head as he lowered down to brush his lips against hers: “that is nothing but a compliment.” Without warning, he kissed the hollow of her cheek. He heard the gulp of uncertainty. “As for self-satisfaction,” he slowly drew back making sure his lips touched her flesh with each syllable. “I think that I have found a worthy partner.”

“Yes, your wife!” she tried to push him away but he was bigger, stronger, bulkier and sleeker than she was. More experienced! She tried staring him in the eyes. Torn between wanting to spit in his eye and melt in his strong gaze Hermione tried a full-on body assault to get him to move but he was too firm. Unmoveable. In fact, he just watched her with that disgusting sneer on his face.

“Does Potter realise what a fiery demon you are, Hermione?” she wanted nothing more than to get away from him so why was she not trying harder? “Your actions betray you, Hermione, you responded so well to my massage I just wonder how well you’d respond to other,” licking his lips again at her young newly grown breasts. Hooded eyes seemed to be directing his lascivious gaze towards her sex, “more _intimate_ touches.”

“Is this some alternative universe where suddenly I’m pureblood?”

“You created that when I saw you wearing Slytherin clothing,” his fingers hooked around her bikini strap stroking from her collarbone to her breast. “Besides, you are of age.”

“No, I am 14.”

“Do you realise the repercussions of time-travel?” he whispered. “Was it not fully explained?”

What in Hades? How had he known that? “I have never time-travelled,” Hermione flushed. Fluttering her eyes down knowing she was twiddling her fingers under the water. “I am a Witch,” Ah, this ought to throw him off. “Not a double hearted Alien in a rickety blue box with the legend Police Box on the lintel.”

“Is that a Muggle reference I am not supposed to get?”

“ _You_ have heard of Doctor Who?”

Sighing against her body, Lucius noticed a quivering of flesh. Oh, she did want him! How long had she desired him? Never one to disappoint a teenager with a crush Lucius became more dogged in his pursuit of pleasure from the presumptuous wench: “I did go to school with Muggleborns, some of them could not stop talking about it.”

That was a shock. Not only that he remembered snatches of conversations from Muggleborns he went to school with. He recalled, with perfect clarity, the reference she made to a long since cancelled Muggle SCI-FI show. Makes Arthur sound like the Slytherin. “Also, you forget, I am a Ministry official,” he whispered against her neck. When did he get there? All four fingers were now curled around the silver strap. The thumb rested on the top of her breast: “I know what you got up to last year.” Hecate's teeth, that was right. “In fact, I encouraged the motion.” Now her eyes widened in visible surprise, Lucius chuckled against her. Do that again, she leaned into his body, arching her back as her hands explored his muscular, defined, sculpted David like a chest. Skin to wet shirt contact was driving her wild in this proximity. Agony took over as she felt her nipples straining against the cups. The man could not help but notice the young witch offering herself against the bank. Wanting him to take her. Well, well, you are my dear little cat are you not. “It puts age a little out of context,” he sucked a little on her chest. “You were aware of that denominating factor?”

Oh no! They said that things would speed up regarding certain things throughout her life. Is that why her body seemed to feel... different? She had already begun her journey into womanhood. “No, I was not,” she whimpered. “You’re married!” to remind herself again more than him. This is mad. Bonkers. If she was not so electrically charged, she would have laughed. Why was she not frightened? Scared? Angry? Why was she allowing this man to caress her in this manner? “I do not want to be one to cross your wife.”

“Ever heard of the _droit de seigneur_?”

“Outmoded in Victorian times,” she moaned. Hands seemed to be all over her body – stroking her waist. Brushing her hips. Spreading on her abdomen. Cupping and weighing her breasts as long fingers flicked against the increasingly sore nipple, “even then it was considered an urban legend,” oh no, not there. Now his lips were sucking a little on the exposed part of her breast.

“Muggles might have outmoded it but I can still have my play _mates_.”

Mates! Almost, she thought bitterly, you can hear the italics. It was only now she had the presence of mind to squirm and wriggle beneath his touch.“I would like to find that out for myself, thank you.” Never had she thought she'd missed the Devil's Snare?

It was like he did not hear her. Nudging his nose on her slender neck, lips brushed against her wet, raw, untasted flesh: “If I do not affect you, we shall find out soon enough,” he purred pressing his lips to her.

Close your eyes, Hermione sighed. Think of something. Anything. Think of Molly and Arthur doing it. That should turn you off. Not that I… “Ah!” she moaned as she felt a searing heat from her abdomen spilling out in liquid form on her flimsy bottoms. Now Lucius was nipping below her ear and along her soft round shoulders. “Stop please!” she begged.

“Why?” he said back. “You sound as if you’re enjoying my idea of fun.” Even his eyelashes fluttering against her cheek scorched her flesh.

“Because I am Hermione Granger and you are Lucius Bloody Malfoy!” she tried to sound angry but that was hard to be when she felt his other firm hand rest on her hip sending a shudder through her leg down to her toes. “You’re a Nazi Supremacist and I am supposed to be so wrong you won’t allow your son to touch my hand in case he gets Muggleitis!”

Her latest word caused him to rock with laughter against her body: “Muggleitis, I love that,” he sighed against her. “Now,” he purred, “let me see the effect I have on you,” without warning he moved the hand from the hip towards the line of her panties. Not there, Hermione pleaded mentally, if his hands felt good on the rest of her body Circe knows how wonderful they’d feel elsewhere. Brushing the edge away with his middle finger she began to buckle. Interesting, Lucius sighed, nice. The silken lip of her labia was swollen. “You _do_ want me, don’t you, my sweet little enemy.

“I hate you!” she hissed.

Smirking against her exposed throat Lucius lowered his body as he rubbed three fingers between her throbbing labial lips. Not quite opening her up, but teasing her; causing her to clench her thighs around his arm: “Maybe you get turned on by hate, Hermione.” This pain she was feeling could be satisfied elsewhere. Lift your leg and knee him in the crown jewels. Again, her body betrayed her, when she lifted her leg, it was to wrap around his waist. “Thank you for being such a responsive pupil, Hermione.”

“I was aiming to kick you in your groin,” she sighed.

“You do realise,” he whispered, “the next action I make will determine whether your body wins or your mind.”

“What about my heart?” she growled. Now her mouth was throbbing. Tongue tingling. Burning. Boiling. Frantically, under the surface of her cool exterior. “Does that not get a say?”

“I am afraid,” he whispered now against the valley between her breasts, sniffing in the petrichor scent that washed over her. “My dearest.” Ozonic; dampened earth; something else, her perfume? Peaches! From the shampoo, she must have used this morning. Did she think he, Lucius Malfoy, was going to let a little thing like blood status get in the way when he wanted a Witch? “Initially, the heart never gets a say.”

“You’re acting like you’ve been planning this for a while.”

“Well, I was hoping to save you for a later date but you negated the need for that when the school requested permission for you to use the time-turner to complete all your studies, though,” he pressed his lips to her collarbone: “Why you wanted to partake in Muggle Studies is beyond me.”

“How did…”

“Draco,” he smiled against her throat. “It is time, Hermione, to see if you really can say no.”

Momentarily, Hermione had forgotten that one of his hands was resting in-between her legs - fingers toying absent-mindedly along the edge of what could be her descent into the abyss. “What do you… oh!”

Firmly, Lucius rubbed deeper into her essence. Warm liquid threatened to drown his fingers: “Now,” he said moving up her body, “you would hate me if I left you alone after that.”

“I can live with myself.”

“Well,” he said moving away from her, “I will be lying on a blanket by that alcove drying off if you change your mind,” he said.

With that, he slipped his hand away from her now throbbing seam. Trying to ignore the wave of pleasure it gave her. On opening her eyes she saw that Lucius laid on his side. Exposing his hip to Hermione. Muscular thighs. Those hands. Oh, stop it, Hermione. She flushed. No matter his silken voice that spoke of dark desires. No matter what he looks like. The way he moved. It was _Lucius Malfoy_. The father of her enemy. Arthur’s bane. MARRIED! Shaking her head she stayed there for a few moments, hoping he had come to his senses and remembered whom she was. After she felt enough time had passed she dived under the water the way _Ariel_ would and swam just as easily under the water.

When she reached the bank she took a deep breath. Clutching onto a tree root one side and a jutting out rock the other, Hermione climbed out. Dripping wet from every pore. Breathless. Definitely not relaxed. Cold. Still, that was her fault. She should have bought a towel but she did not imagine being absent for this long. Stretching up she exposed her entire body to the sunshine. Hearing her joints creak. Hermione started her post-exercising ritual like she was taught at her Primary School.

“Interesting form of post swimming etiquette,” said an urbane voice she had hoped had disappeared. “I prefer to lie in the sun to dry off and, on a more planned excursion, a glass of white wine, some crackers and a cake of Brie.”

“You are supposed to stretch before and after exercise,” Hermione replied gathering her things. “I’m going.”

“Why do you not dry off first at least?” the man was aggravating. Now her legs were trembling with the ease in which he spoke to her. “The Weasley's would wrap you up in jumpers lest you catch a cold,” he teased.

“At least it’s better than remaining with you or having to explain what took me so long when I said I would be back long before 3 pm.”

“How do you know what the time is?”

“Girl Guides. Position of the sun.”

“Clever,” Lucius purred.

Gritting her teeth Hermione wished Draco could stand up to his father. Draco would probably have been a lot easier to reject. After all, Lucius has had more practise and, it seemed; had planned her to be alone with him at some point in their acquaintance. “Goodbye.”

“How are you going to release the charms I put in place?” Lucius asked, laughter in his voice. “Counter charms only work when you know the spells in the first place. You could probably make some lucky guesses but I doubt you could remove all of them. Especially as one of them is not even on the curriculum.”

Note to self: No longer go anywhere alone when you know Nazi blond prats are within the vicinity. “And I suppose you are not going to release them, are you?”

“Not unless you come and dry off,” Hermione did not have to turn around to see the smirk painted across his lips. Reaching the silver glint in his eyes. “Hermione, there's plenty of room.”

“Fine!” she dumped her clothes on the floor. Sharply turning on her heel and was caught off balance by what she saw. Lean, lithe, lion-like man, gracefully residing on a green blanket. Glistening in the golden sun from his sojourn in the lake. A more glorious image than the Sun King himself. “You could just charm yourself dry.”

“Ah, but you cannot,” he said. I do not intend to help you either, you lissom little cat. “Do you realise there are _some_ Slytherins not as cultured as I?” with another dazzling smile he stroked the blanket at where she was likely to lie. Circling his fingers around where her belly button would be. “Some would have rutted you before you could blink.”

“Oh so even in the Great and Noble house of Slytherin there are some wizards better than others?”

“Hierarchy is not a bad thing, Hermione.”

“Not if you’re on top it isn’t!”

Laughter in his eyes, evident in his smile, that Hermione had said something a) amusing and b) placed an image in the depraved Wizard’s head. Chewing her lower lip Hermione did not understand what had caused that look of dark mirth in his eyes. “Oh, I intend to be on top, Hermione,” he said. “Join me.” Warily, Hermione walked up to the blanket. Eyeing it like a fox would an already plucked and prepared chicken for it to take, placed outside the hen house it once resided in. “I admire your sense of caution, Hermione, it’s almost Slytherin of you.”

In a parody of Draco, she bit back: “Don’t touch me!” before stepping on the soft, shimmering, emerald green silk. Slowly, she lowered herself on the blanket and sat with her knees huddled to her throat.

“Sunbathe,” he said. “Allow the sun to worship your body as you pay obeisance to it.” She felt his hand on her shoulder again. Why was she so weak? Why couldn’t she resist him? Gently, he pulled her down so she was lying flat on her back: “Now,” he said, stroking her belly. “No silly rules about no touching, Hermione, I can be certain that if I had not happily come across you. Another might and that others may not have been quite so gentle.”

“Draco would have given up by now.”

“I know,” he whispered, “but I am older, wiser and more,” he slipped his hand further down to between her legs. Throbbing. Sore. Hot. “Persuasive,” he finished.

“If you say so, Mr Malfoy,” Hermione tried to sound blasé. “I cannot take your word on that alone, I need witnesses.”

“Maybe because I have not put my case forward in such a clear manner,” he growled as he lowered his head pressing his lips on hers. The tip of his tongue licked around her lower lip. “I hope this will make you bring forward the jury’s verdict,” he purred before caressing her mouth with his. “I happen to have three good lawyers that can _test_ ify on my behalf.” Sexual puns now? Hermione did not have time to consider her actions as she raised her arm and stroked his hair out of her face. Nipping around her mouth Lucius continued stroking the contours of her waist. Igniting her core. Her tongue, her bad - dangerous, would-never-be silenced mouth betrayed her mind which, itself, was clouded in fog. This was not thirsting that could be quenched by water. No pain that could be cured by pepper up. This was primal. The entire scene was something out of a James Bond film. “Well?” he asked. Noticing her lips parting. Pupils dilated. Glowing blushing flesh: “What is the verdict?”

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn all pureblood hypocrites to hell. “Please,” she murmured.

“Please, what, Hermione?” he whispered in her ear.

“Just please!” she begged.

“I need to hear those magic words?” his nose brushed aside her hair again. Not Make Love to me. How could she say what she wanted? This was wrong. All levels of wrong. So how come it felt so right? “What would you do for this Sheriff you are so fond of?” That was cheating. Tapping into her private fantasy no one was meant to hear. “How would _he_ want _you_?” Stop it! “If you are a good Witch I may even find a way to watch this film of yours.” Silken promises wrapped in gossamer hiding the dagger of hate. “How about we watch it together?” he nipped her ear making her bite hard on her lower lip. Suddenly, she felt his mouth consume one of her aching, heaving hardened breasts. An action that caused her already raw sinews to shudder beneath him. “You’re hurting me, Hermione,” he groaned as pushed his tumicid staff on her abdomen. “The quill is full and needs to write its essay into your beautifully willing body, my dear sweet temptress.”

As far she was concerned this would be her one and only encounter with the pervert: “I’m yours,” she sighed. NO! Why did she have to say that? She planned on something like, _Get_ over yourself, Malfoy! Just this once.

Not: I’m Yours.

“Damn right you are, Hermione,” he purred against her lips. “Don’t you forget that.”

What did he mean by that? She had no idea as her stomach lurched. He had better be as powerful a Wizard as they say he is, she sighed. If they were seen or heard or both - she dreaded the repercussions - not for him. She could not care less for him. Though happily for her, she’d be seen as the victim and he’d be sent to Azkaban.

Carefully, he untied the little straps connecting the panties and discarded them. The fingertips grazing against her now highly sensitized flesh caused her to whimper. “You will be purring for me my sweet,” he sighed. “Like the cat you are.” Hooking an arm under her legs smoothly lifting them from behind the knees he gazed into her now dark brown pools of wonder. That was it, he groaned. He’d waited too long. Wedging his knee between the small gap of her thighs, Lucius parted them. Shifting his huge, hulking frame within her small body. Stroking down one of her legs with his fingernails as she seemed to respond so well to that motion. Lifting it by the thigh, Lucius wrapped it around his waist as he kissed her throat. That beautiful, teasing throat; that he wanted to kiss since he saw her bend her head up to look at his son. Her growling hiss was all he needed to hear as he grazed his teeth against her collarbone. The other leg willingly, and with no help, completed the most intimate of hugs shared by this unorthodox of couplings.

Hot hands lowered down to her young, untested breasts straining against the fabric with decided desire. Smirking at how hard they were, he imagined the torture she would have suffered had she said no. A shiver ran through his mind of her asking one of those red-haired dolts. This renewed his attack. Dipping his head he bunched one breast in his capable palm. Massaging it. Teasing it. Hungrily kissing around the hard nipple of its twin through the soft fabric. Hissing as his teeth grazed her pleasure induced swell. Nipping harder, Lucius looked up as her eyes darkened. “No one else will be your bedfellow,” he vowed, as let go of her nipple. “I will not tolerate rivals, Hermione.”

“Oh gods,” Hermione arched her back finally grabbing his hair in fists. “This has to be dark magic.”

“Magic,” he agreed, “but most certainly not dark,” speedily he switched breasts - all the while her legs clamped around him eager to get more. “My, my,” he whispered. “You are quite the lusty little cat, are you not?”

This was so weird, Hermione thought, am I dreaming? This is a dream. Wake up, Hermione. Please wake up, Wake… “ARGH!” she yelled as his teeth nibbled on her ear sending more natural lubricant through her drenched channel for him to sail his yacht into her port, “Mr Malfoy,” she groaned as she finally lowered her head down and rested it on the dip of his collarbone. So vulnerable beneath him.

“Lucius,” he hissed. “You're my lusty cat,” he kissed her throat again, “Lucius,” he sucked the lower juicier part of her lip. “Lucius, say it,” he ground his hips against her pelvic bone. “Lucius!”

Hermione could have pushed him off there. She could have stood up and tried to find a chink in his jinx but she was too far gone now. Too overwhelmed by this lust-filled haze that had clouded her judgement.”Oh Merlin, Lucius!” now her voice had taken on a deeper resonance, husky, adult. Feral. It spurned Lucius on. “Why?” she asked panting. The blanket was sticking to her. Not sure now what was water and what was sweat: “Please, Lucius, why?”

Instead of answering he lowered his mouth down to her belly button. Flicking his tongue around the whirls and crevices. Scraping her fingers down the line of his spine as he began sucking the mound around it. “Oh yes,” he grinned, “you _keenly_ purr for me my darling feline.” Met with mumbles and murmurs of joy. You liked that, didn’t you? Would you like me to … no, we must save something for another time, mustn’t we: “Now, Hermione,” he danced up her body. Planting his hands either side of her head. Darkened eyes hot with lust: “This will hurt but afterwards you will want it again,” he stroked some hair out of her face, “and again,” he whispered dipping his thumb inside her mouth. A prelude to how her centre would react to his impassioned member. Wetting his thumb with her eager, playful tongue. Watching her lap his masculine scent before she bit it with her teeth, sucking on it breathlessly, “and again…” he crushed his mouth to hers. Devouring Hermione completely taking over her senses and her last shred of hope of being able to refuse this man. Byron, you got competition! Hermione moaned his name inside his mouth. Daring not to kiss him back. She allowed his tongue to lick around her roof. Stroking the top of her own, now responsive treacherous tongue, that curled around his as if possessing him for her own. “... Hermione,” he groaned. “Ready?”

“What…. OW!” she yelped as he pushed his engorged, throbbing sceptre into her soul, joining them together in a strange union. “That hurt!” her eyes glared hatefully at him.

“I did warn you,” he smiled gently kissing her all too eager mouth, “but just so you do not feel too bad, I should imagine Draco’s hurting even more.”

Bastard. Her brown eyes focussed a look of intense anger on Lucius. “Now, my dear cat,” he gently removed his quivering sword from her sheath. Exquisite, Hermione sighed. Bliss! her hiss of approval spurred Lucius on as he thrust his turgid wand deeper into her. Causing Hermione to whimper and bite her lower lip. “ _Purr_ for me, my cat,” he grunted as he motioned to move out of her again. Momentum built to such an extent Lucius rocked harder into her, slamming hard against her vice-like bud. Nails dug into his back. Toes curled. “PURR!” he yelled as he pounded her several times. Yelling purr with each wild thrust into her now possessed and owned femininity. “PURR! WITCH! PURR!”

Strangled moans. Sighs of such intensity fell upon his chest. Helplessly murmuring. Until Lucius pulled out of her ever so slightly causing her to hiss and arch her back up wanting to swallow all he could give inside her. Slowly, Lucius stroked up and down her sides, pulling her hips to his body. “Mmmmmmmm ohohohohohohoh!” she screamed. “OH OH OH OH!” Warm hot hands covered her thighs as entered his entire length into her small, wriggling, willing body. “Luciusssssssssssssss!” she screamed! Digging her nails into the small of his back scratching down to his buttocks. With her slight hands, Hermione pushed him down, making her slam so hard into her that she temporarily blacked out. “Lucius,” she whimpered as her head rolled to its side. Her arms flopped down as they lost all use of her muscles. Her body surrendered completely. “This is just so...!” she yelled as he grabbed her hips with his hands again pushed her body down onto his own, sex. “Mmmmmmmmmm,” she twisted grabbing fistfuls of the blanket, “Oh oh oh oh!” Now Lucius decided to go for the kill as he felt his release near. With one last, truly final thrust, he grunted out her name letting his seed spill within her. “You bastard, Lucius Malfoy!” she panted as she lay flat with her arms splayed as if she was making a snow fairy as he left another trail of hot, feathery kisses with his lips and eyelashes on her sweaty, flushed, and still sensitive face, neck, and chest. Still panting Lucius dove right in with his tongue where Hermione was more than willing to duel. “Why did you do this?”

“I admire beauty,” he mumbled against her neck. Licking around her ear, he then proceeded to nip and suck the nape of her neck, sucking with his teeth making her whimper yet again. ”Careful, dear cat, you do not wish to awaken it,” his lips travelled back to that throat that had beguiled him from the start. “It hates being teased,” he gently entered her one last time before the erection completely slackened. Hermione’s legs shuddered around him as he slowly slipped out of her.

He finally had his muggleborn Gryffindor wench. Oh, and she was superb for her first time. Imagine her excelling in the lessons he planned to give her. Exhausted, spent and satiated for now: Lucius collapsed on top of her, moaning her name over her shoulder, nibbling her one last time.

They stayed there whilst each had the time to recover. Hermione found she was dripping with blood and other fluids from her treacherous nub. Lucius picked up his wand and, thoughtfully, cleaned her up from head to toe making sure there was not so much as a scar on her. “Well,” he tilted his head as he contemplated his artistry on the young woman. The eyes glowed, the flesh sizzled, the smile and the dimples were more alluring than before. The wild mass of curls was like snakes from her scalp – twisting, writhing and untameable. “I will probably visit the school sometime,” his voice spoke volumes of how he intended to carry on playing with her. To make her drown into him. Causing her breath to diminish and her will to weaken but oh she enjoyed it! “You had best be less of a fight then.”

“I thought this was only a…”

“I mean you to be mine, Hermione,” he stroked along her jaw. “ _Mine_!” he growled grabbing the hair from the back of her head with the other. Clutching onto her jaw Lucius turned her head so she could see the intent of his fire. “in every sense of the word.”

“I’m not some slave to do your bidding!”

Instead of being indignant or nasty Lucius just leaned over her again before she had time to stand up and placed one gentle kiss on her still hungry lips causing them to already ache for more.

“I think we should let time decide that,” he whispered.

Quickly Hermione scurried up. Rushed her shirt on. Did not even bother buttoning it. Zipped up her skirt and put her sandals on. “Bastard!” she hissed.

It was then he released the wards that had trapped her and she stormed off. “A bastard am I?” he sighed as his hooded eyes rested on the one item of clothing she unwittingly left behind. “A keepsake,” he picked up the discarded lilac panties of her delectably illicit outfit. Still sticky with her essence, he threaded the laces through his fingers the way he did with her hair. “I did not know you cared.”

♦♥♦

Half an hour later Lucius slipped into the Marquee - dressed as he was before. Suave. Smiling. Congenial. “It must have been _extremely_ sensitive,” Draco said, “what have you been doing? I even asked Potter if he’d seen you.”

Miss Hermione Granger, Lucius thought, screwed her senseless: “Exploring nature’s bounteous delights,” was Lucius calm reply. Putting his hand in his pocket he felt the fabric of the panties: “a most challenging thing to admire in all but five minutes.”

Furrowing his brow Draco noticed that his father’s hair was still wet. “Was it raining?”

“Of course not, Draco.”

“Why is your hair wet?”

Lucius was saved having to answer when Cornelius Fudge walked in. The Minister made a beeline towards Lucius. Grabbing the man by the wrist, Cornelius enthusiastically shook Lucius warmly by the hand. If only the dolt knew where that hand had been. The thought restored Lucius equilibrium and he smiled congenially at the fat fool. “Hello, old boy, nice to see you look happy.”

“Ecstatic,” Lucius said in reply. Gracefully capturing a flute of bubbly from a floating tray. “One might even call it,” he licked his lips. “Orgasmic.”

Spluttering out his drink Draco coughed at his father’s choice of words. Thankfully, Fudge was so one-track-minded that it missed him entirely: “Well, that is good, Mr Malfoy. I like seeing smiles. Boosts morale!”

Smirking with a dangerous curve to his lips, Lucius lifted the glass, with a quirk of the eyebrow. Raising it to his lusty cat Hermione Granger. “My morale has already sufficiently been boosted, Cornelius,” he murmured taking a sip of the champagne. “In a most satisfying manner.”

♦♥♦

“Hermione, where have you been?” Ron yelled. “You could've missed the match!” he touched her arm but she flinched a little. Knowing that the last person who touched it would not let anyone near her. Let alone, Ronald Weasley. “We went all around the lake looking for you but we could not see you,” he said dropping his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“We were extremely worried,” Ginny said, pressing her hand into Hermione’s, “especially as Lucius Malfoy was nowhere to be found.”

“As you can see, I am fine.”

Standing behind Ginny, Harry glared through his now world-famous spectacles. Hermione noticed him reaching for the red head’s shoulder. Subtle, she smirked. “I bumped into Draco who was also walking around the lake.”

“And?”

“He was looking for his father. He seemed somewhat _distracted_ ,” Hermione hung her head, “he did not even call you… you know… that. Instead, he said: _When you find her - tell her I want to talk to her. Immediately_.”

“Um,” Hermione bit her lip. _Probably to tell me to stay away from his dear daddy kins_. The horrible thing about it was – he was not raping her. Not really. One-touch and she wilted under him. Yes, she was trapped by the charms but she had an opportunity to swim the other side and climb out and wait till nightfall. So what if she missed the match. No, that would not have worked. Lucius would have seen her and joined her. Essentially, he had trapped her. But she still did not push him off. He had not used any magic on her to make her do it. “Well, I suppose he wanted to insult me. Not important.” Hermione Granger allowed herself to be seduced by Lucius Malfoy. Not only that but she _liked_ it. _Loved_ it. Was _eager_ for it. _Yearned_ for it. Even now, when she was throbbing and sore, she _needed_ him.

“Hermione,” Ginny began, “why is your hair wet?”

Wet hair? “I went for a swim,” she answered. Git! Had to leave something, didn't he? So I had to face awkward questions or try and lie my way out. “I must have been underwater when you were doing your rounds.”

Under was right. Under Lucius Malfoy. He expects round two! Why did she feel that the only person who would believe her was Professor Snape?

“We could not see anything of the lake at all,” Fred said. “As you know, it disappeared off the face of the earth!” he stood up and puffed his chest out: “In desperation, we cried,” here he fell to his knees. Holding one hand over his heart, the other up high in the air and rearranging his face into one of stricken anxiety, “HERMIONE, WHERE ARE YOU? WE ARE BEREFT AND LOST WITHOUT YOU! I DON’T KNOW HOW WE CAN LIVE KNOWING YOU MAY BE DEAD! TO THINK SHE NEVER SLEPT WITH FRED WEASLEY!”

“Our head filled with all sorts of disasters that could have befallen you,” George carried on. “Carried off by a Centaur because you are, ya know, beautiful like. Or a Werewolf?” Hermione flinched. “Even worse we dreaded the thought that you were under the dark machinations of YOU-KNOW-WHO’S allies!” George’s eyes twinkled as he matched his brother's stance: “OH, HERMIONE! DO NOT LEAVE THIS MORTAL COIL, FOR WE ARE NOTHING WITHOUT YOU. HOW COULD YOU DIE BEFORE YOU KISSED GEORGE WEASLEY!” with that he offered her an irrepressible wink making her laugh. “Didn’t you hear us?”

“No,” she said. Devil, the man was a devil with blond locks. She hated how close George was to the truth. Truth be told she would rather it have been one of the twins. At least the worst fall out she could expect was having Molly show her blatant disapproval. “Did you check for charms?”

“OH, GREAT AND BEAUTIFUL HERMIONE, WE BOW TO YOUR WONDERS AND DELIGHTS! FOR WE KNIGHTS OF GRYFFINDOR DIDST INDEED FORGET TO CHECK FOR CHARMS!” Fred moaned dramatically. “MAYHAP, OUR FAIR MAIDEN SHALT FORGIVE US FOR OUR ERROR AND SHE MAY YET SLEEP WITH ME!”

“CANST THOU FORGIVE US FAIR MAIDEN FOR ALLOWING THEE TO BE MISSING WHEN, ALL ALONG, THE ANSWER WAS RIGHT IN OUR TROUSERS!”

“Shut up the pair of you!” Ginny giggled punching her brothers on their arms, “You’re making her blush.”

“Lucius looks happy,” Arthur said entering the tent. “Just seen him looking like the cat that had the cream.”

Did he have to say that expression: Eager little cat, he called her. Gods! She was: “Did he tell you where he had been?”

“Oh, hello, Hermione,” Arthur smiled, “we were about to make another tour of the lake.” He then remembered the question she asked him: “Said he was contemplating nature’s wondrous bounty. Who’d have thought it, eh? Lucius Malfoy; a nature lover.”

_Bounty_? I will give him bloody Bounty! A lifetimes supply if necessary! “I need a nap before the match if that’s all right?”

“Sure,” Arthur sighed. Something was different about his honorary daughter. “Hermione,” he said narrowing his eyes, “did _you_ see Lucius?”

Hermione bristled: “What makes you think I had?”

“No reason other than he was at the lake too.”

“It’s not like the lake is invisible,” Hermione huffed. “Or small! He could have been one side and I the other,” she was tired and felt ill. “If either Mr Malfoy or I, were there someone would have seen us.” Every single bit of us!

“All right, Hermione,” Arthur was gentle in approaching her. “We were worried, that’s all, worried. I have a duty of care to you because your parents can’t be here,” here he wrapped his arms around her waist comforting her. Oh Arthur, she sighed. Nestling in his ragged but cosy body. Stiffly she pulled back as she recalled the last hug she got. “Go on, have your nap,” he sighed.

Whatever signs the others had missed Arthur saw something. Guilt. What had Hermione done to make her stiffen in his arms when she had not done so before?

If Hermione had known what was going to happen in the coming year she would have disappeared then and there. Preferably to a place unknown. Especially to a certain blond-haired, dark master, elitist, Nazi supremacist arrogant wizard who had deflowered her and was prepared to do so again.

The worst part was, she was already eager for it herself. She _had_ to speak to Professor Snape the moment she got to Hogwarts.

  
  



	2. Disgraced Is My Virginity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius finds Hermione where she lives and watches her trick some muggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Warning** : This story contains scenes of seduction involving, to many, a Minor. I have used that Time Turner theory, but it is still rather dubious. I will not go so far as to say it is rape so I will add **Dubious Consent** to this. Up and coming chapters will display themes of rape and torture._

_“Disgraced is my virginity  
Death has woven my wedding dress   
Oh Great Blue breathe the morning dew_ **_  
_** _F_ _or you are the cradle of the image of god”_

_( **Nightwish** – Devil and the Deep Dark Ocean)_

****

** Disgraced Is My Virginity **

****

Two weeks had passed since she was what... seduced? She was certain she could not call it rape as she responded. Barely put up a fight. Did not exactly force himself on her either. Even asking her what she would like him to do to her. After the drunken Death Eater raids, which had resulted in the tragic death of the Muggle baby, Hermione wished to go back to her parents just to feel safe with them. Swallow up the sights her childhood eyes took immeasurable comfort in. Different now, she mused sadly, through the perspective eyes of a partially trained Witch. One who had fought evil. The town seemed vulnerable. A child now instead of her. No one here was another Witch or Wizard. Or so she thought until she was charmed by the lovely weather and decided to take a quiet stroll in her local park.

Casually, she strolled, happily swinging her arms to the side. Soon she would be back at the Weasley's. Despite what she had done before the Quidditch Match she felt confident Malfoy Sr, had forgotten all about her. Why should he? He got what he wanted so he had no further need. His wife was still young enough, she presumed, to give him excessive amounts of joy. With these optimistic thoughts in mind, Hermione allowed the sounds of the park to fill her ears. Birds tweeting as she watched blue tits and robins hop and spin in the air. Ruffling their feathers with pride as they did so. Giggling, Hermione also heard the steady stream of water languidly burbling over the pebbles and tree roots. This was her favourite spot. She sat on a bench to observe humanity.

Ears perked up by happy childhood squeals. Turning her head, Hermione saw a family picnicking out on the well-manicured lawns, by a sparkling man-made water feature. Why they sat there and not in the refreshing shade of the trees by the natural stream she had no idea. The man fed his partner some of his yoghurt which she exchanged with chocolate mousse. Quietly, Hermione watched the family innocently having fun when she knew of the dark dangers only her presence here could bring upon them. Hermione could not help but have a lump in her throat as she flicked some of her hair behind her ear and fought to keep the tears from her eyes.

“Lookit!” the youngest cried out. Blond curls framed his rosy red apple cheeks. Hermione could not see his eye colour. Quietly, she watched the boy raise his ice-cream stained pudgy hand in the air. “Sephnee done it again!”

Se... Ah, Stephanie. Smiling, Hermione followed through to see the oldest child in the family – a rather cheeky looking auburn-haired girl with green eyes, heavily freckled, and was going to be quite pretty when older. Could not have been older than four. The girl clearly had been trying to get her parent's attention about asking for something. Angry that her parents were too involved with each other at the point she wanted said _thing_ , the girl set about getting it herself. Somehow, Hermione's heart swelled with pride at Stephanie. _Accio_ , she folded her arms under her breasts and sat back smirking at the sight of a rainbow of coins glinting in the sunshine as they travelled through the air from her father's pockets. Neatly done, Stephanie. Welcome to the fold. I wish I could go up to the parents and explain that their daughter is going to be perfectly fine and to give them a few pointers. Sigh, damn the rules sometimes. Damn me for being too goody-goody to attempt to break them.

Performing Wandless magic was only allowed for Witches and Wizards pre-Hogwarts. If only students, who had a semblance of control, were allowed by the time they were fifteen or if that scumbag was to be believed, she was sixteen now, then she would not have been crying herself to sleep over the past few weeks. Finding the only comfort in her mother's arms who was wise enough to ask no questions. Solace with her father's wise words. Joy in her books and studies. Knowing in two days time she was going to go back to the Weasley's. Not seeing eyes on her home for another year.

Each trip back home seems to be shorter as she was immersing herself heavily in her other world. It was a confusing thought having to choose over which one she loved more. Eschewing most things Muggle when here apart from money, and the odd educational television programme, Hermione spent most of her time wandering around the park on warm days and reading textbooks. Sharpening her essay skills and memorising Methodology In Transfiguration when it was muggy. The start of the school holiday's she went for a two-week break abroad with her parents. Otherwise, she felt more or less 85-90% Witch now. Almost finding the Muggle world quaint and plain.

“Stephanie, what have we told you about stealing?”

“I wun't stealing!” she heard Stephanie say indignantly explaining herself as if she was talking to idiots. “Was temprily borrowing.”

Despite trying to keep a little quiet Hermione snorted at the reply. She had to tell that one to Harry one day. “That is not the point, Stephanie, you did not have permission to take the money so it's stealing.”

“Temprily borrowin!” insisted the little girl.

“Also, what have we told you about doing _that_ in public?”

Now Hermione was grinding her teeth together. Almost, she felt as if she should step in and hang the Ministry rules. “I did nuffin,” Stephanie pouted the way four-year-old girls do. Large eyes filled with tears. Maternal instinct kicked in Hermione. All she wanted to do was take the girl from the parents, scowl, and say she would take care of her from now on: “I can't help it!”

“When we get home young lady we are going to have to remind you of the dos and don'ts!”

Bristling now, Hermione was about to stand up until she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and gulped. That cologne was now ingrained into her neural networks. Vehemently, Hermione tried to get up again as the girl's tears began to shimmer in the sunshine. Seething as she witnessed the father manhandle the poor child roughly around the wrist. All she wanted to do was curse the Muggle for hurting a minor.

“Why do you not let the professional deal with the Muggle, Hermione,” a silken strand strummed in her ear. “Hmm,” she felt lips on the curve of her neck to shoulder. Crying, the child's face twisted in agony. Heartbroken Hermione tried to turn away but the scumbag she had twisted herself with, was keeping her looking. “Remember accidental magic, I am sure if the girl is truly upset her vilely ignorant patriarch would soon find himself stunned.”

“I wun't stealin and I wun't doin nuffin,” Stephanie's voice held such a panic that it froze Hermione's heart. Now she got a proper look at the father he seemed like the type who loved to keep up appearances. “Daddy, I didn't mean it!” the terror made Hermione feel ill.

“Let me help her,” Hermione said. “That man may be a Muggle but a leather strap is the same either way.”

“Trust to accidental magic, Hermione, now watch.”

Hermione lifted her hand up and tried to brush _his_ handoff. Furious, as she was likely being forced to watch public brutality. Only it would not budge. I bet it was you who murdered that poor muggle baby you bastard, her mind growled. I hate you. I hate what you have done to me. Loathe you for keeping me from helping Stephanie. Keeping her thoughts to herself Hermione continued watching the poor child get angrier. If Stephanie was anything like her, Hermione mused, the parents were in for a world of trouble if they insisted on accusing the child of something she had no control over. She tried to step up again but she heard the gentle hiss of the fabric against the rusting metal of the backrest.

“Look, Hermione.”

Morbid curiosity took over as Hermione watched. She saw the father yank Stephanie up looking for a private place to hurt his daughter with no one looking. “Daddy, it was accident!”

“You've done something wrong and you need to be punished!”

“Let me go, he'll hurt her!” Tears stung Hermione's eyes as she felt an overwhelming urge to vomit, “I know you hate Muggles but please... let me!”

“You would get expelled if you use magic, Hermione. So,” she felt him shift position. The fear in Stephanie's pretty face made her heart hammer in her chest. “I am not the monster you purport me to be, sweet lioness,” gulping, Hermione continued watching the scene unfold before her as Stephanie's fear was so palpable – even some onlooking Muggles were looking concerned for the child. “You are not the only one concerned – I am sure the man is a disgusting individual. Muggle parents throughout the cent...”

“Mine wasn't!” Hermione said. “My parents treated me with respect, sat me down and explained things, made the point drive home with intellectual reasoning. When I got the letter they were relieved that there was finally an explanation as they said there would be.”

“Then your parents are rather the exception than the norm,” he whispered.

“Harry's mother's parents were also accepting of their talented daughter,” Hermione snapped. Wishing she could glower at him. “From assumption, I'd say that her sister was jealous.”

“No doubt,” the rustle of fabric. The feel of something sharp pressing into her back. “I have it on good authority that his dear Aunt is not pleased with him in her home.”

Suddenly she felt her chin being moved to Stephanie and her father. Suddenly, the father's hand drew sharply away from his daughters and held it up to her face. “What have you done to me you rotten little brat!”

“That does it!” Hermione exclaimed ready to hex the brainless Muggle.

Finally, the mother spoke up trying to speak in her daughter's defence. “Dear I am sure...”

“Stephanie is your rat, bitch, not mine,” the man snarled holding a limp purple arm that was breaking out in spots. Hermione smirked with satisfaction. “I told you what to do with her but you won't listen to me!”

“You can't expect me to give up my own child!” the woman shouted hotly as she swept Stephanie up in her arms. “Her father died and was more of a man than you will ever be!”

With her other arm, she swept up her other child who also looked at his father with fear. Then the man grabbed the boy: “You think I want my son near that freak!”

Gnawing her teeth with frustration she watched as the girl stared in horror at what she has done and knew what was coming to her. Hermione heard Harry's horror stories from growing up to know that not every Muggle Parent/Guardian was accepting of their special talented wards.

Reaching his arms out to his mother the boy started crying as the father held him close: “I should have known this was from your side of the family.”

“Ha,” Hermione exclaimed, “that's what you think.”

Chuckling deliciously in her ear, watching the lioness resisting the urge to pounce and hex this muggle was the best entertainment he'd had since he had seduced her. “Turn your gaze to the other child,” the man purred.

With a slight turn of her head, Hermione watched as the boy floated in the air to his mother's outreaching arms. “WHAT THE HELL?” the man roared.

“Seems like Jolyon prefers my side of the family as well,” the woman said defiantly. Holding her hand up she took a ring off and threw it at the bloke – earning a round of applause from the crowd. “You. Are. Not. Going. Near. My. Children. Or. Me. Again,” she threatened. “Because guess what buddy – you failed the test.”

Hermione wondered if the woman was a squib because she seemed unperturbed by public magic displays. Though she still wanted to get up and tell the woman her children will be safe and sound. She wanted to help the woman now but the ridiculously persistent man behind her kept her sitting down.

“You have noble intentions to those children, I daresay,” the voice whispered almost seductively in her ear. “You see a part of yourself in them, but,” she felt his nose nudge into the crook of her neck and his lips touch her skin. “I am sure the mother would only call for your arrest if you marched right up to her and told the woman her darlings were actually going to go to a school that teaches Potions, rather than Science,” his cane pinched into her spine. “Arithmancy instead of Mathematics,” he dragged the snakes head part of the cane down her back making her arch out slightly and bite her lower lip; worrying it so wonderfully he was tempted to apparate with her to a secret house only reserved for Mistresses. “Transfiguration instead of English. Where Charms does not necessarily mean well mannered,” she felt his lips curve against the tip of her ear, “and where Physical Education means being taught how to ride a broomstick.”

“What if she is a squib?” Hermione asked as she watched the man storm out of the park realising his latest meal ticket was lost.

“Hmm, interesting possibility,” the way he enunciated each word caused her throat to run dry and her mind turns to mush. There was no sense in all this but she could not help but feel somewhat flattered by his attentions, as salacious as they were. “Though could you risk that?”

Sighing, cursing that he was right she snapped. “What are you doing here, Malfoy?”

“I thought we had come to some sort of understanding,” he blew on her neck noticing, with enormous pleasure, that she moaned a little. Her heightened sensuality was just delightful to behold. “My first name is Lucius,” here he tickled the back of her head with his nose. Nuzzling into the soft, glorious curls making her judder beneath him. “I want to hear you say my name,” he whispered.

“Lucius,” she mumbled. Allowing his hand to caress her shoulders, not caring that his fingers were pulling the puffy sleeves of her floral blouse to slide down her arm trailing hot, lingering, kisses to her shoulder blades in their wake. “Lucius!” she hissed.

“That's better,” he purred. Continuing his comforting massage of her slight but soft shoulders knowing that was what she loved. “As to why I am here,” he kissed the side of her neck causing her to flush. “I wanted to put your lovely little mind at rest, _my_ lusty mudblood,” he rested his chin on her shoulder. Hermione resisted the urge to lean an arm up and over to stroke his beautifully kept hair. “It was not _I_ that killed that muggle child,” he kissed a small spot between the lobe and the hairline beside her ear, “or played any part of that ungainly massacre.”

“I do not believe you,” her voice faltered. Legs gave way beneath her even though she was sitting down.

“Why would I go on a reckless drinking binge and kill when,” he scraped the snake cane up to where her rough plait ended flicking it aside to reveal more creamy flesh which he proceeded to nuzzle his nose into before scorching her with his lips. “I was made supremely happy in your arms just mere hours before,” here he noticed Hermione whimper with his attentions. “When I was still drunk on your,” here he buried his nose in the shell of her ear. “Pert young breasts,” he whispered, revelling in her moan. “On your,” his fingers curved around her throat, kneading the soft flesh beneath the collarbone, “essence.”

“You are a son of a bitch,” Hermione said through her panting. “All you do is crap out arcane idylls that no longer have meaning from your slippery, deceitful, mouth.”

Instead of turning him into a seething mass of rage Lucius chuckled deeply against her causing her body to tingle and shiver all over. “If you give me a chance, Hermione,” he sighed, pressing his lips against the hollow of her cheek, “I will show you precisely how _slippery_ my tongue is.”

“You disgraced me,” she leant her head back allowing him to glance down her blouse. Why was she acting like she enjoyed his foul intentions? No spell was cast. Yet it was like he had her under some form of ancient dark enchantment that she could not counter-curse, “you made me commit a vile and traitorous act!”

“ _Made_ you do?” the chuckle was low, dirty and poisonously dangerous for her rapidly fast-paced beating heart. Not to mention her core. “I believe you kissed me back,” he sighed nibbling her ear. “Wrapped your sweet little arms around my back,” now he was circling the cane around the muscular structure of her back. “Hugged my hips with your shapely legs,” now she felt his other hand in the more unruly parts of her hairdo. “Clenched my wand yearningly with your sheath,” a nip on her neck, what was he doing? This was a public place? People knew her here. She was already considered a freak as it was. To have this older man practically seduce her, driving her to orgasm without touching – just by his words – was salaciously delicious. Oh yes, his tongue was slippery alright! “You panted, groaned, moaned, sucked, touched, tasted and _screamed_ my name so passionately that I still hear it in my head now.”

“How did you know where I was?”

“I do work at the Ministry,” he whispered, now his hand had slipped to her bicep. The longest finger brushed against the outer of her breast. Betrayed by her body yet again as she felt the glands quiver within her. “I have sources that will be bribed so easily.”

“Pigs!”

“Quite agree,” he sighed. “You are not one to bribe, or be bought, are you?”

As she was about to answer a group of girls Hermione's age sauntered past. Adorned by various coloured, tight, strappy vest tops. With daisy duke style shorts that barely covered their backsides. Lucius thought they were the worst form of Muggle. Uniform. Sheep, Hermione thought nastily. Giggling over the latest hot kid at their school whilst eating ice cream. One of them narrowed her eyes as she walked past Hermione. Where had Lucius gone? Not that she cared. Hermione had years of experience handling this tart.

“Oh, look, it's Nerd Hedge!”

“Come on, Arabella,” rolling her eyes as well as pressing her tongue against her cheek. Hermione gave the girl before her a fierce stare. Lucius noted that if there were no such rules where Magic was restricted to youths during the holidays Hermione would have most certainly hexed this disgusting Muggle into the next millennium. Not to mention what she could have done to that so-called excuse for a father. Pointless Law, he mused, if this girl was allowed full use of her potential then she would be a fine example of how Hogwarts can teach their darling little wards. What is the point of learning if one cannot apply what they are being taught in situations like this? He still insisted on blowing the back of her neck. “Are we not a little too old to resort to six-year-old nicknames.”

“Did Nerd Hedge try to talk?” leered Arabella, “I could not hear her over her hair!” the girls with her laughed.

“Now,” he sighed, “you won't stand for that, will you?” he slipped his tongue slightly in her ear. 

Power surged and waved within her, Lucius groaned in almost a minor orgasm from her force. Cogs turned and clicked in Hermione's mind as he observed her narrow her eyes. The same contempt she offered him in Flourish and Blotts. Aggravating on a 13-year-old but so much more alluring on a 17-year-old. Even if, to the rest of the World, she was 14. Gulping down her shudder as she felt his hand leave her body.

Elegantly, his favourite mudblood rose up from the rickety bench. Lips twitched into a dark smirk as he watched her sway her hips slowly. Stalking her prey the way a true lioness would. Now he turned his attention to the girl on the receiving end of Hermione's wrath. Bored by her looks with five minutes. Rather plastic-looking, resembling that ghastly toy he had seen Muggle girls walk around with, this was so unevenly matched. Still, Lucius old boy, he grinned just enjoy the show, eh? He was pleased that he was wearing a Distraction charm so no one could easily see him but feel that someone was watching. A charm he had perfected and patented himself.

Somehow Lucius took especial joy when Mudbloods squared up with their Muggle tormentors. Privileged was he at this point in time to be witnessing the best Mudblood Hogwarts ever held within her walls take down the sort of Muggle girl he abhorred to the fibre of his being. Lazily he brushed his hand down his twitching shaft: Not today chap, he sighed. We need for her to enjoy our company now. Muggles, to Lucius Malfoy, was nothing more than fodder for the worms. At least Muggleborns had the sense to be born magical.

With his vantage point, Lucius noticed, finally, what the delectable young woman was arrayed in. Licking his lips as his languid gaze appreciated Hermione's arraignment. The pretty, frilly, white skirt was shorter than the creation she had worn by the lake. Strappy green sandals encased her feet: Tut tut, he shook his head with a crocodilian grin, you seem to want to tempt me, my dear. Then again, green does suit you so well. Another tight-fitting blouse wrapped around her willing, compliant body. Floral, he sighed. Bold pink roses against a cream background with bubble sleeves that he loved slipping down her arms.

There was no denying it, Hermione was crackling with mischief. Hermione stopped in front of the one called Arabella. Fortuitously, the Witch found something on the floor that would suit her purpose. A skull clip dropped by a goth at some point. Shrugging her shoulders Hermione faced Arabella.

“OOOOO Nerd Hedge is coming close – we can't let her touch us!” Arabella sneered. Still, Hermione swayed her hips. Grinning malevolently, Hermione raised her arm up. “WE DON'T WANT NERD DISEASE!”

“LUXOR,” she hissed with such venom that Lucius found it hard to control his little chap! Now she lowered her arm aligning it with the centre of Arabella's body, “NESTOR,” she said in the same vein. Closing his eyes, Lucius let out a minor moan as he tended to the hardness in his trousers due to the hiss in her voice. Hermione smiled as she stopped at the girl's eyes, “Burst!” she snarled, pulling the clip to the east, “and BURN!” this said as she landed westwards. Through hooded lids, Lucius watched as she then grabbed Arabella's hand and placed the clip in the palm closing her fingers around it.

“Yuck, what are you doing?” one of Arabella's lackeys squeaked, terrified of his Mistress.

“Just a curse, have a nice day!” Hermione said breezily. Holding in his wood, Lucius chuckled at the last few words and would use them next he hexed someone.

Immediately, Arabella paled and dropped the clip like it was burning a hole in her hand, “N-no s-such t-thing a-as c-curses,” Arabella stammered.

Tilting her head, Hermione's eyes took on a glaze that Lucius knew all too well. Shining with mischief and dark sarcasm. My dear cat, he chuckled, the claws are out. As is my little Wand. He began rubbing furiously as he observed Hermione become ever more evil in her eyes. Throwing her hands up in the air tossing her head back Hermione moaned in an unearthly manner: “Oh sun; my lover! Moon my husband! I do beseech thee thy wisdom on this poor spiritless louse;” Oh Merlin, Hermione, you are wonderful and my little wand agrees. Hand motions were picking up their pace as he heard her moan. “Who doth plague her mind with ignorance. Do, please, show that there art indeed more things in heaven than there is on Earth that we mere Mortals can tap into,” she lowered her head keeping her hands thrust towards the sky. Her voice still shaking and groaning in wracking guttural groans. He had to use both hands if he was to achieve success. Imagining her sweet little sheath hugging his all. Whilst she was riding above him. Eyes rolled back in his head. Good job no one could hear him unless he wanted them too! “The sun and moon have spoken to me, they have said: _Arabella Medhurst must indeed be punished for her lack of faith – that she shall have to circle her bed seven times clockwise, in the morning, seven times anti-clockwise, in the twilight for the curse to truly leave her soul_. Only if she shows this test of faith then may her skin not become green.”

More my sweet tormentor, Lucius hissed, toy with this incompetent bitch more. You are a lovely little plaything, Hermione. Tease her mercilessly.

“You're b-bluffing.”

“May every other tooth not turn black.”

Panting he had to lean against a nearby tree as he found the rhythm he so desired with his hands whilst imagining her taunting mouth around him.

“S-stop it!”

“May she not grow boils on her arms and legs.”

Carry on, darling. I am almost there. You play so well with these imbeciles. How can I not want your essence – your fluid – lubricating me as I thrust deep and hit home? That's it, little Wand. I know you like her.

“A-all r-right,” Arabella stammered, tentatively stepping back, looking at the back of her perfectly manicured hands.

“May her hair not fall out and may her nails not rot with infection!”

That is it, Hermione, you are making me laugh with your mocking of the girl. More, Hermione – threaten her with faux consequences – you have no idea what you're doing to me. The memory will keep me going for generations.

“Y-you a-are n-not f-frightening m-me.”

“Only if she heeds the wise words of the sun and moon shall she be relieved of this curse.”

Dearest, he sighed as he began squeezing his own now very ripe plums. Nearly there, sweetest treasure.

“Y-your l-lying.”

Here Hermione's voice went dangerously cold as her eyes glittered mischievously taking a measured step, Hermione moved closer to Arabella. “Seven times; Seven times; Seven, Arabella,” she hissed in a perfect imitation of Professor Snape.

I will do that sum on you, Hermione my dear. Hissing a breath over his teeth he squeezed out his self manipulated orgasm. By Hermione's actions. The sway of her hips. He risked looking at her. Realizing she was not quite done he continued rubbing hoping for a second come.

“I d-don't b-believe y-you.”

Now Hermione's eyes took on more of a dangerous element to them as she shook her head in an almost pityingly manner: “Oh and I forgot one other thing,” she examined her nails like one had just annoyingly chipped whilst she was filing them into shape, “you must then find a frog or toad and kiss it after each time.”

With a final pinching squeeze, Lucius flung his head back against the tree and bucked his hips forward giving in to his own desire.

“I w-won't d-do i-it.”

One of Arabella's girlfriends coughed a little: “Remember,” she said cautiously, eyeing Hermione warily, “when she _did_ make a wart grow on your nose, Bells?”

With a final groan that would have earned him disapproving looks if anyone could hear Lucius stood, supported by the trunk, exhausted but still merry. The torture was not over but he could hold off until it was.

“And,” another supplied taking a step backwards, prepared to run, “when she made your lips swell?”

“When she turned your...” the final was about to mention something disturbing but in her hurry to get away from the scary Granger girl she tripped over the same tree root that Lucius was hiding behind and landed on her backside, wincing with pain. Hurriedly, her two comrades helped her up.

“All right! Seven times; seven times; seven and kiss a frog and toad I got it!” Arabella said very quickly.

“Well,” Hermione sighed impatiently, “Boo!”

Screaming; the Muggle girls ran off in wild panic, to make sure that the freak did not do anything serious to them. Laughing, Hermione chuckled: “Too easy!” Making her way back to the bench she decided to do an impromptu cartwheel. Probably not a wise thing to do in her white skirt but she felt the need to do it. “Now, let's see how the Muggleborns are doing,” she sighed sitting back on the bench. Hoping that those children were not going to meet girls like Arabella as they grew up. A deep chuckle sounded behind her: “That was splendid entertainment, what do you do for an encore?”

“They're silly,” Hermione said.

“Indeed they are,” Lucius sighed. He was back in the same position as if they had not been interrupted. Resuming his massage with the snakehead cane on her back.

“It is not cruel but it teaches _them_ a lesson.” Them? Since when did she think of Muggles as _them_? The contempt served only to awaken the little chap. It only took full fulfilment when pumped dry by a Witch's Venus flytrap! “I thought you'd gone?” she murmured as her body tingled with his lips now on the back of her neck as he pushed her plait aside again to kiss between her shoulder blades.

“I was hardly going to miss watching you interact with those that shaped you before Hogwarts,” he whispered. The rustling of fabric made Hermione catch her breath in her throat. “We could apparate,” he purred, “I could take you somewhere that is more private. I do not fancy making love on the ground all the time.”

All the time? How often did he think they were going to meet like this? Nerves and defiance took over. Checking her watch, Hermione sighed: “Do you know it I have to be home soon,” she said getting up.

Spinning on her heel she turned around to face him, he had only wanted _her_ to see him through the Distraction charm when he would expect the maximum impact. Oh, Gods, she felt her heart fluttering in her chest. In all his Sun King glory, Lucius Malfoy stood casually against the tree. Her fingers itched to run through the golden locks framing his Aristocratic countenance. The arched eyebrow and smirk she should despise turned her knees to jelly. Ice blue eyes gazing at her with nothing but naughty intentions, burning into her soul. Muscular, fit and dripping with sexiness. No robes. No heavy jackets. Heart sped a touch fast at the sight of him wearing white silk with silver Celtic stitching, drawstring tunic – left alluringly open to reveal that throat she had nipped. Those shoulders she clutched onto. Remembering the arms that held her with such ferocity and warmth. Hermione felt her blush travel further down her neck as her eyes flickered south down his body. Balling her hands into fists as Hermione had to try and control her urge to wrap her legs around his firm-wide hips. Lean shapely legs wrapped in nothing but a pair of deep red dragon skin trousers and matching slightly heeled boots only accentuating how long they were. Silver rings adorned his hands, glittering in the sunshine, a strange mirror of his eyes. One held a ruby. The other a cold sapphire flashed catching Hermione's attention due to the irony of the matching glint in the darkening irises. Blushing as she remembered that hand felt parts she had not touched herself before he had awoken the need within her.

Standing against the tree, arms folded, with his cane pressed against his chest. Legs were crossed below the knee and the whole rakish form just sent her into palpitations. Was this how Cathy felt with Heathcliff? Gather your senses, Granger, she chided inwardly. The memory of being under his body as those hips danced. Panther like grace as he circled her body. Filled her entire world. Flooded back to her in full volume, 3D, technicolour, surround sound – the effect almost knocked her knees from under her.

“Like what you see, Hermione?” he grinned. “I meant it though, what do you do for an encore?”

“I am glad you found that petty display of power over ignorance diverting but I have books to read.”

With that, she was about to turn back around and flounce out of the park on her way home but he grabbed her elbow and pulled her behind a rather old oak tree that was in the darkest corner of the park. Gruffly, he swung her around. Then slammed her back against the bark causing Hermione to wince: “When I said I wanted to have my own _encore_ ,” he sneered, “I did not mean having to wait another minute when I finally found some time to play with you,” suddenly he crushed his lips against her quibbling mouth. Harshly forcing it open. Not waiting for pleasantries, Lucius dived his tongue into her sweet, oh so pleasurable, mouth. “I gave you two weeks,” he panted, brushing hair from her face. Twinkling sky blue eyes now turned slate grey. “To mourn and gather yourself from the after match debacle,” here he grabbed her breast in his heavy, well-practised hand. “I _need_ you, Hermione,” here he thrust against her skirt and she felt how _much_ he needed her. “By Merlin I...!”

“Hermione!” another voice, “where is she? I thought I saw her.”

Cursing under his breath, “Muggles and their imperfect timing!” Lucius' eyes scared Hermione. For she had recognised the voice. This was going to break her heart. “Another foolish one like that gang of shallow girls?”

“No,” she whispered “a friend, we were always close.”

“Fine, divert your friend,” he pushed her around the tree making sure she had not looked too aroused. Then he peered around. Observing her with calm assurance. All his distrust aimed at the unknowing boy. What Lucius saw made his jaw slack, shaking his head in disbelief, surely Severus did not have a Muggle son? With extreme discontent, he noticed Hermione was animatedly chatting to him. Rubbing the pup's arm and stroking his cheek. “She failed to mention the crush on the said friend,” he grumbled, grinding his teeth as he watched her drool on this insignificant boy that disconcerted him.

“Steve,” she sighed taking hold of his hand. “I heard about your parents, I'm so sorry.”

“They had not been getting along for a while now,” Steve sighed. Black hair held a bluish tinge in the sunlight. “Did I see you and Arabella playing?”

“Playing is one term for it,” Hermione slapped Steven's arm laughing. To Lucius disgust, she was blushing for this Muggle. “I was nicer than I ought to have been.”

“What did you make her do this time?”

So, the goody-goody Gryffindorian Lioness, best friends with Harry Potter, bookworm and model student: liked to tease and play with Muggles did she? He wondered how many sumptuously imaginative ways his little Mistress had tricked that vacuous bitch into relieving so many cunningly deceptively fraudulent curses?

“Walk around her bed seven-time clockwise in the morning; seven times anti-clockwise in the twilight and kiss a frog or toad after each time.”

“Really,” Steve chuckled. Even the gleam in the boy's eyes resembled Snape. It made Lucius just a touch suspicious. “That was pure gold, Hermione,” he wrapped her in his arms in a tight hug. “Priceless.”

“Thanks,” Hermione leant into her friends hug. Leather divinely assaulted her nostrils. Mixed with a hint of cardamom, salt, something floral and definitely mint. Suddenly, she wondered what it would be like with him. “Why were you looking for me?”

“I was at your home to ask you for one last movie sesh,” he said, tucking a stray coil of hair behind her ear tenderly. An action that caused Hermione to blush and raise her own hand to where he had previously touched, “this may be the last time I will ever see you.”

“There are two weeks left of the holiday,” Hermione said. “There's next year.”

“No,” Steve sighed cupping her chin in his pale long fingers gazing deeply into her eyes, “there won't be.”

“Steve... I still want to be friends with you.”

“It will be pretty hard when you go to a school you can't even tell me the name of,” Steve bumped his forehead against hers and gulped down. Tears fell unbidden from the corner of his dark eyes, “I have to go to Canada.”

“C-Canada. W-why?”

“Oh Hermione,” Steve pressed his lips against hers. Teasingly, gently. Wrapping his arms around her waist massaging up her spine so his fingers eventually led to her hair which he fisted into her thick plait as Hermione opened her mouth allowing him in. Circling her own tongue inside his musky tasting mouth. Taking the hint, Steven grabbed onto Hermione's hair so fiercely that she moaned his name as their lips throbbed with passion. Ignoring the glares. The few catcalls and whistles as Hermione buried her fingers in his lank black locks. “I have to,” he panted. “Because that's where my father's work is and I am not speaking to my mother.”

“NO!” Burying her sobs against his black shirt. Arms slipped down. Curling her fingers into the lapels of his leather jacket. Steven's hands now wrapped around her waist and pulled her against him. Oh no, she had caused him to harden. “We were going to get married, remember?” she mumbled.

“I was 8 and you were 6 when we said that,” Steven pressed his lips to the top of Hermione's head. Sending shivers of delight down her back. “But you know what,” he tilted her chin up and continued studying her face, knowing this was the last time he was ever going to gaze upon it, “it would have been fun.”

“When do you have to go?”

“If you were at home I could have spent more time with you but I have to go tomorrow,” he said. “I have to pack, make sure I have everything; go to sleep … Hermione,” Steven held her at arm's length and earnestly looked at her. “You hold a wonderful gift. I do not know what it is, but you do,” Hermione gazed tearfully, into his glittering eyes. Stomach lurched and twisted inside her when she was reminded of Professor Snape. Kinder, younger but still – Snape-ish enough to be his son. The man cannot be a virgin, after all, despite how Harry and Ron felt about him. Hermione could not deny Professor Snape is intelligent, wise and she trusted him. Not just because Headmaster Dumbledore did, but she actually trusted him in her own heart. “I hope you win whatever fights you are part of,” they clashed lips again in a frenzied swirl of adolescent heartache. “I hope this Harry and Ron treat you right,” he petted her nose with feathery light touches, “I also hope you blow that prat Damien Molloy out of the water!” Laughing, Hermione sniffed back her tears. Tenderly, Steven wiped them away from her eyelashes. “Remember what the great David Bowie said?” Shaking her head, Hermione wanted nothing more than to make love to Steven. If she were braver she would have grabbed his hand and dragged him to her home and had him in the hallway. “You remind me of a babe,” he winked.

“Babe with a power.”

“The power of voodoo,” he sighed, “we would have had so much fun, wouldn't we?”

“Come back to mine!” Hermione heard herself say.

Blinking Steven looked at her with his jaw open wide: “Hermione, I just said...”

“If this is the last time we're going to see each other then come back to mine?”

“You mean... like... you and me...”

“Yes.”

“Whilst I would love to have the hottest girl on the Planet, I would prefer it not to be a childish fumble on the bedsheets.”

“I know what I'm doing.”

Steven was knocked sideways by that response: “Hermione,” he dragged her in a hug and buried his arms in her curls and she held onto him tightly – not wanting to let him go. “I wish I could,” he sighed. “I do,” he kissed her nose, “but I respect you too much to get you into any kind of trouble.”

“I love you!”

“I love you too,” Steven sighed. “Unlike Jareth with Sarah, you do have power over me. I feel that if we were to have sex,” he brushed aside hair from her face, “I would not want you to go back to this Harry and Ron and keep you all to myself.”

“I hate growing up.”

“Yeah, life sucks, doesn't it?” he rested his cheek on her head and they stayed in their youthful untainted lover's embrace for several moments. “I have to go, Hermione,” he sighed. “I will never forget you.”

Reluctantly – slowly, Steven stepped away from Hermione and closed his eyes squeezing the tears out. After a few doddering steps, swaying with sorrow, Steven took one last look at the back of Hermione's head and was on the verge of changing his mind. If Hermione had turned her head he probably would have. Instead, she stood there, hugging her own arms as tightly around her waist in an effort to control her own broken heart. Steven shook his head and ran for it before Hermione risked a sad tear-filled gaze at the spot where she knew he must have hesitated. “I won't forget you either,” she sighed brushing tears away.

It was then she felt his arms around her and she tensed up: “I'm not in the mood for your games right now.”

“Damien?” he questioned. “How did you know that is what he was almost called?”

“I did not but not many people in the Muggle world are called Draco,” she huffed. “Other names did not suit him that began with D.”

“That Muggle probably did the most sensible thing I have watched a Muggle do.”

“What's that?”

“See you as a Power and respect you for having it.”

“He was the only one who ever treated me as an equal, I was never an insufferable know-it-all or a geek. Or bookish. Bushy haired... Steven was the only one in my whole life to make me feel comfortable in my own skin and he was the one that taught me how to embrace that.”

“He actually seems intelligent.”

“He is and I hope he achieves his goal.”

“What's that?”

“Save and house rare species of Snakes and Reptiles.”

At this Lucius Malfoy arched an eyebrow: “A worthy goal indeed,” he sighed. Almost tenderly, Lucius pulled her back behind the tree and made her step back as she hit against the bark again. “I will see you again,” he murmured against her swollen lips. Without warning, he separated her legs and cupped her crotch through her skirt in his hands stroking it so well Hermione whimpered as she clamped his arm around her thighs: “Your body betrays you yet again, Hermione,” he murmured. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from her seam. “I will find a way into your sweet nectar fills my cup again.” Scared, Hermione risked a glance into his eyes and it was clear he was not happy that he had witnessed her kissing a Muggle boy. Once his long fingers scraped against her now aching bud she hissed and bit her lower lip to stop her from yelling his name. “Not a word to anyone about this,” he whispered smashing his mouth against hers not giving her a chance to recover from their illicit touches. “That inane Muggle girl, Arabella,” the tone changed to one of cordiality, almost like he did care for her other than a bit of skirt. The seduction was over thankfully. “I _could_ gently curse her...”

“No,” Hermione said through a tug of a sneer on her lips belied her refusal. Chuckling dirtily, Lucius tilted her chin up. “I mean it!”

“I know you don't,” his eyes sparkled with his knowing authoritative tone. Making her knees buckle again as he tilted his head to kiss her once more. Hermione mirrored his action as her lips parted. Diving in deep, Lucius swirled around her, tasting her as he would elsewhere. Gathering as much of Hermione as he could to savour.

“You bastard!” she moaned, as his hand hitched her skirt up further. This time groping her sex with his fingers through her panties. “I wish you would explain this spell you seem to have on me.” Okay, that decided that! Lucius had not actually forced her into doing something she hated. He was right. She was willing for him to be her lover at that time. Probably, she sighed as she bucked against his hand, I would always be entranced by one Lucius Malfoy.

“The spell I weave on you Hermione is not one of Magic,” he whispered inside her mouth, “but one that only two people can create,” her forehead now resting on his shoulder as her legs shivered beneath her. “One that is built within,” dipping his finger inside her as if preparing her for his Wand, as he called it. Hermione nipped his shoulder to stop her from screaming. This was incredibly public. Extremely illegal. Wanton. Harlotry. Perverted. So, why did she enjoy it so much? Pumping his fingers within her excessively wet core. “I will take my pleasure from you,” he growled in her ear, “for now, I am thoroughly enjoying your reaction to my hand,” the helpless whimpering just served to make Lucius want her to ride his fingers. “Come for me, Hermione, I want to hear you helplessly murmur my name.”

“Lucius,” she nipped beneath his ear as she bucked and rolled her legs against his arm. “Oh, Merlin! Oh, Gods!” Lucius watched her roll her head back against the tree as her hips jerked forward.

Smirking like the snake he was, Lucius felt her walls clench ever tighter against his hand. He could feel her ready to come. “Come for me, Witch!” he growled as his final harsh thrust met with grinding hips: “Now!”

Feeling her abdomen tighten, a flush of that now-familiar heat shuddered through her body as she moaned out his name with a wild look in her eyes. Hair all over the place and Lucius felt her essence drip down his hands. Trickling down his arm. Slowly, causing her another minor orgasm, he slipped his hand away from her. Silently, Lucius cleaned only her up. Smiling with glee at how utterly feral she looked. A dangerous gleam entered his eyes as he licked his fingers and smacked his lips together: “The finest wine available is that from a willing and beautiful woman,” then he stepped away allowing her to recover. Panting. Unable to stand for a while as she was weak from her unexpected but, and she let tears fall, admittedly not unwelcome orgasm. “You are certainly from an extremely fine year, Hermione.”

“How can you say I am attracted to you?” she tried to keep the sadness from her voice.

“Next time we act,” Lucius placed a hand just above her head, with the other he tilted her chin up, “I will show you proof from your own eyes,” he sighed as he stood her steady on her feet. Taking the distraction as an opportunity to devour her mouth again, drinking her completely: “Gods Hermione!” he panted. “You're my addiction!”

With that, he let go off her and silently apparated. Leaving Hermione feeling emotionally battered. If only Steve was not so damn honourable. He may have looked like Professor Snape but he acted like Harry Potter. With Steve gone, Hermione made her lonely way home. Lucius had ordered her to tell no one but Hermione Jean Granger did not work like that. No, she could not tell Dumbledore about this. Neither could she see her heroine and head of house lest the school blows up in Minerva's rage.

The only course for her was Professor Snape. He was used to humiliating her anyway. Used to sneering with contempt. She was used to his disappointment and exasperation. Professor Snape would not care if she was being propositioned by his friend. As a Teacher though, he may take the matter seriously enough not to mock her, and help her protect herself against Lucius Malfoy's wonderful kisses. Taking her keys out of her bag to let herself in, Hermione sighed as she tried to imagine Professor Snape's face.

In fact, she sighed, as she flopped her back on her bed and stared up at her ceiling, Professor Snape would probably take points off Gryffindor and hand her detention. How could she convince him to see her? When? Yet writing an owl to Professor Snape filled her with even more dread than having a less than an acceptable mark on her essays. There was Remus but no one knew where he was. As much as she respected Sirius for being Harry's Godfather she felt that telling him would blow his cover in his search for revenge. This was one problem she just had to sit on her hands on until she was back at school.

The next two weeks seemed to crawl by as she became snappy and irritable. Even declaring to a shocked Ginny that she was not looking forward to going to school. The only one who took her moods in their stride. Asked no questions. Yet, surreptitiously peered over his glasses every now and again, was Arthur Weasley. Molly also picked up on the signals her husband had indirectly sent her way as she gazed upon Hermione with shocked eyes. Someone had meddled with her and Molly would jinx the man to hell over it. From then on, Hermione either found herself engulfed in Molly's arms, or being smiled kindly upon by Arthur.

They were not the only ones that were worried.

Unnoticed by everyone a pair of green eyes followed her. Gazed upon her. Keeping quiet as he observed how different his friend was behaving. A sway of her hips. A smirk on the lips. The way she tossed her hair. It was not only that but she seemed to make innuendo's that made Ron blush and there were her eyes: Sparkling, twinkling, filled with some kind of knowledge that he was not yet ready to explore... in short, he began to view Hermione as a woman and not a girl.

Hermione felt happy once she reached Hogwarts. Home! She sighed, and where I will be safe from the wandering hands and explorative tongue of one silver blond; Byron-esque, Wizard who makes me forget any kind of sense! As she entered the hall, she searched out for a pair of black, glittering eyes. Once she found them, she saw that they were already gazing at her – why did he arch his eyebrow at her? Now she had been close to Steven, almost wonderfully close, she really could see the similarities. What if...

No...

… Impossible! Shaking her head Hermione sat down in her usual position – between Harry and Ron. Still, she felt her scalp burning – briefly, she glanced up and saw Professor Snape's eyes trained on her and she blushed as she quickly looked back down again. Did he know already? Had Lucius bragged about managing to seduce the stupid little mudblood pet of Potter's? Why would it be otherwise?

Then she turned her gaze to Malfoy Jr. Blue eyes gleamed at her, making her shift uncomfortably in her seat. How could she have forgotten what he said to Harry: _When you find her - tell her I want to talk to her. Immediately_. It appeared Draco still wanted to have that word with her...

Whatever guise or subterfuge she used to get Professor Snape to see her withered out of her brain as she decided that she would just have to trust that he would speak with her if she asked. If Harry and Ron were not loitering behind the door he may give her the time of day. Distracted Hermione toyed with the food. I will see Professor Snape tomorrow, she decided, in the Lunch hour. I will find a way to talk to him.

Then all the excitement took over from the representatives of Durmstrang and Beauxbaton came in with their Heads. Still, Hermione could not get Lucius Malfoy's eyes out of her head. How he dressed. The feel of his lips on hers. Thighs pressed between her sex...

“Hermione!” Harry yelled waving a hand up and down her face. “Earth to Hermione!”

“S-sorry,” Hermione hissed. She knew she could not leave until the teachers said so. There where first-years to lead and help. “I've just got a lot on my mind that is all.”

“We can help,” Ron said rubbing up and down her back. “That's what we're here for.”

“I am sorry, Ron,” she sighed, “but this inner troll cannot be fought with sheer dumb luck,” tears threatened to fall down her cheeks. “I j-just...” suddenly, she burst out in vehement sobs as Harry and Ron wrapped their arms around her shoulders. Soon Neville stopped eating and leaned over to hold her hand. Lavender and Parvati quickly got up and ran around the table to join in the group hug. Eventually, as many Gryffindors as possible engulfed their favourite Princess in hugs. All Hermione could do was sob out her broken heart.

They all felt their arms being removed by Professor McGonagall, who had noticed her unofficial favourite student in emotional pain, long before she was being somewhat suffocated by her well-meaning peers. “Miss Granger,” she said, “I will take you to the Tower and you get yourself to bed, you hear?”

“Shall we come,” Harry said standing up.

“No, Mr Potter,” the matronly woman smiled, “you stay where you are. Though Miss Patil could accompany us.”

Immediately, Miss Patil took to Hermione's other side, aiding the quivering girl to their dorm: “Achieve!” the Professor whispered as the Fat Lady's portrait swung open. From then on Parvati took over.

“What's wrong, Hermione?” Parvati asked brushing Hermione's hair out of her face. “You can tell me.”

Instead of answering a fresh wave of emotion engulfed the bushy-haired girl. All Parvati, and later Lavender, could do was surround her with comforting hugs. Whatever had occurred during the holiday's must-have hit their friend hard. Tears drowned her eyes and his voice whispered in her ears: _Tell no one_. Screw that Malfoy, she shuddered against Lavender who decided that they should share a bed in case Hermione's grief was more serious. I will tell! I will confide how disgraced I feel in the lust you have forced upon me. How you ravished me of all coherent logic. On how you took my virginity without batting an eyelid.

No one in Hermione's year slept well that night. All were worried about their lovely, compassionate, kind-hearted friend. Most of all Neville Longbottom, who had been harbouring a crush on her for a while now. In fact the boys decided, as they all could not sleep they may as well wake up and talk about how they guessed some bloke had hurt their lioness. All vowing to hex the Wizard who caused their dear Witch to shatter into tears. That was just Harry's room. The twins and Lee were already plotting strategies and Ginny and some of her friends also talked. It would have been pretty damn clear that the Wizard or Witch who had caused her this much anguish would have to face the Lions Pride. For their Queen was hurt!

Yet all Hermione could do was stare wide-eyed in the darkness with shining eyes and determination in her heart. For the first time in her life, she was grateful that Lavender was a hugger. If she had not had that extra support Hermione may have broken school rules just to confess to Professor Snape right now. Though, would he really care? Or be shocked? Does it matter? He is a Slytherin, and I have to fight with the tools available to me. I will just endure the sneers and tuts he will direct my way. I cannot carry this on my own.

Still, she wiped yet more angry tears from her face, I am determined. I will confide in the one Wizard you least expect I would do!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you picked up my little cultural reference to one of my favourite films - Well done!


End file.
